


Them That's Got

by hjea



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Billie Holiday, Dancing, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-13
Updated: 2012-06-13
Packaged: 2017-11-07 16:34:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/433209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hjea/pseuds/hjea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha catches Steve in a nostalgic mood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Them That's Got

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Billie Holiday's "God Bless the Child."

Steve Rogers was sitting on a couch when Natasha walked into the room, his head back against the seat, eyes closed as the wistful sound of Billie Holiday spun from an old record player. Natasha made her tread deliberately heavy as she moved closer, stopping before the couch. She clasped her hands behind her back, and waited.

Steve opened his eyes slowly, and then straightened in his seat when he saw her. “Ma’am,” he nodded at her. 

It didn’t bother Natasha that he rarely called her by her name. She took the ma’am for what it was--a sign of respect--and had only felt the need to offer once that he could call her Natasha if he wished to. 

“Captain.” Natasha raised her eyes at the leaning towers of vinyls and cds stacked around the couch. “New initiative I’m unaware of?” She nudged a Zeppelin IV record back into place away from the edge of its teetering pile.

Steve barked a mirthless laugh, and rubbed at a spot between his eyes as he surveyed the musical architecture. “No, Stark’s idea I’m afraid. He thought I should get caught up on 60 years worth of the best music. His picks.” 

Natasha nodded, unsurprised at the kind of homework Tony Stark would set. Although she was surprised he hadn’t simply started Steve off with AC/DC.

Natasha raised her eyes questioningly again as a new scratchy song started, Billie’s voice filling the room once more. “You haven’t gotten very far, have you?” 

Steve shrugged. “I meant to keep going, but I recognized the album. Had it in my apartment in Brooklyn actually. And...” He opened his hands in a helpless gesture. “I’m surprised people still listen to her.”

Natasha’s eyes were kind as she looked down on him, and she offered her next words like a gift. “Some things are timeless.”

She reached a hand out toward him, and Steve looked puzzled, his eyes shooting to her face in a question. Natasha’s expression was calmly neutral. “Can you dance?”

Steve’s eyebrows shot upward in surprise. “Not well I’m afraid, ma’am.”

“That’s alright.” Natasha turned her palm up in another invitation. “Will you?”

Steve considered, and then took her hand in his and rose from the couch. She pulled him into the middle of the floor, re-adjusting his grip with one hand and guiding his other to the centre of her back. She led them for a few moments, swaying gently, until he found the rhythm and spun with her slowly.

“There was someone back… home. Someone I was supposed to dance with,” Steve said suddenly.

Natasha nodded. “I’d heard,” she said, and if Steve was surprised that she had he didn’t let it show. They danced silently for a few moments longer. “Do you want to talk about it more?”

Steve shook his head. “No. Not really,” but a smile was edging into the corners of his mouth now. He looked happier, or at least a little lighter, and Natasha nodded in satisfaction. “Okay.”

The last notes of the song sounded, and the needle lifted from the record with the end of the album. Steve took a step back, and then to Natasha’s surprise, bent his head and lifted her hand to his mouth. “Thank you, Ms. Romanova,” his lips grazed her knuckles, “for the dance.” He lifted his head, and she noticed for the first time how much his eyes could twinkle when he wanted them to. “Natasha,” he amended with a smile.

Natasha nodded at him, a smile playing at the corners of her own mouth. “Thank you, Steve.”

He left the room, back straight, and Natasha stood in the middle of the carpet, seemingly lost in thought. After a moment, she turned to the other entrance and levelled a gaze at Clint, completely unsurprised to see him leaning against the doorframe.

“Caught the show?”

“I didn’t know you danced,” Clint replied, ignoring her question. Natasha walked toward to him, arms folded across her chest.

“You’ve seen me dance before.”

“Only for jobs. Never for yourself.”

Natasha paused and tilted her head to the side, trying to read Clint’s face. “Jealous?”

“No.”

Clint’s expression was inscrutable, but she didn’t think he was lying. She waited for him to say more.

“You were nice to him. To Rogers.”

Natasha raised her eyebrows coolly. “So? I’m nice to people.”

“Never without a reason.” Clint raised his eyebrows to mirror hers, and this time waited for her to speak. Natasha sighed.

“I like him.” She said simply. “And he was sad.”

Clint’s face dropped from hers, a slow smile arching his mouth as he shifted even closer. He dragged a calloused thumb across her folded arm. “Never knew you for having a soft spot, Tasha,” he breathed in a low whisper. Natasha unfolded her arms and put two fingers under his chin, raising it so he would meet her eyes again. “People change, Clint.” 

He tilted his head in acknowledgement. “So I’ve heard.”

Natasha took a step back and Clint sighed, turning and leaning so his head was backed against the doorframe again. “This mean you’ll dance with me next time I’m sad, Nat?”

He was smirking now, serious mood evaporating, but Natasha only looked at him steadily. Finally she spoke. “Maybe.” Clint’s eyes opened in surprise, and she moved to walk past him out the door, pausing just as her arm very deliberately brushed against his. “Ask me sometime.” 

She was halfway down the hall when Clint’s voice caught up with her. “I’ll take you up on that one day.” 

Natasha smiled her reply to herself.


End file.
